Misanthropy
by tahtiiawnuhFF
Summary: Nightmares, contracted from darkest depths of our minds, sometimes reflect truth, and fear. But... What if what we fear is merely the darkest depths of our mind in the first place?


_There was a gust of wind that busted the French doors open, banging them hard against the walls. He shot straight up from his nightmare, drenched in a cold sweat. The shivers ran down his spine, his chest heaving as he ran his hands over his face and then into his hair, attempting to orient himself. Looking around, he noticed that his sheets were tangled all around his legs. Whipping them off, he scooted to the end of the bed, feet touching the ground and putting his head in his hands. Taking a few slow breaths, he tried his best to calm his nerves. Swallowing thickly, he looked up at the opened windows, the dark curtains billowing in the night breeze. Sighing and letting his hands fall from his face, he just stared off into that never-ending sky. _

After a moment of letting his eyes adjust to the dark, he felt another shiver run through him and he looked down. His tank top was damp, sticking to him and clinging to every muscle. Peeling it off slowly, he got up, bunched it up into a ball and threw it into his laundry basket. Soon enough, he started pacing back and forth, forefinger tracing his bottom lip in deep thought, the wind caressing his face gingerly.

His gaze was brought up as he peered outside and bit his lip, furrowing his brow as he regarded the balcony hesitantly. Padding over, letting his toned and tanned legs take him over to the cold marble elevated patio, he reached the edge and let his strong masculine hands rest on the stone balcony. His eyes scanned over the same scene that he'd woken up to for the last four years. Eyes glassed over, he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears. He allowed his eyes to drift down, his vertigo setting in as his stepping faltered at the height.

His long eyelashes cut through the cold air surrounding him as he closed and opened his eyes deliberately, taking in the distance from his current position all the way down to the busy streets under him. Eight flights. Was it enough? He clenched and unclenched his angular jaw, the soft olive toned skin tensing as his knuckles turned white from his sudden grip on the ledge of the balcony. Pushing himself up, he extended his arms and brought a leg up so his bare foot was on the thick stone railing of the edge. Gulping and keeping steady, he stood on it and placed his other foot down next to it.

The air swept against his back, chilling his damp skin to the core, almost as if propelling him to do it. To take the leap and push off. The breaths he took seemed thick and murky. Blinking slowly, he looked down again, legs wavering. Why the hell not? He didn't have anyone to live for. No one that cared. Everyone always just left. Because he was never enough.

"I was never enough," he whispered into the cold night. He felt his shoulders slump as his toes dangled over the precipice. He would feel light, like a feather. No stress or thoughts. Just rushing air and a feeling of flight. Of freedom. He closed his eyes and just stood there.. Feeling. Or rather… Not feeling. Extending his arms, he put one foot out, knowing nothing would break his fall. Knowing that he would plummet and fall onto a moving car. And that's what he wanted. He wanted that inner peace.

Sighing and opening his eyes, the dread in his chest amplified at the thought of her face. At the thought of how hopeless and worthless he was. His mind flashed back to that night. The night of his crash. Shutting his eyes immediately, he brought his foot back but didn't step down from the ledge, doing his best to try to stop the memory from materializing right before his eyes.

Flashes of the fight went on in his mind. He couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. To push it all away. Yelling. So much yelling. Until he was red in the face. Her slapping him. Him throwing a vase. And then.. Him storming out. Jumping into his car as his dark dark eyes were steeled over, uncaring. Letting the red rage take over as he drove and drove. Slamming on the gas because he really just didn't care. But then the red light. The tree. The swerving. The breaks and his car ramming into a tree. The pain. The blood.

"NO!" he screamed, covering his face.

And she didn't care. She had gone to see him in the hospital. But only to yell at him more. Make him feel worse about the entire situation. About how he couldn't walk. Couldn't run… Couldn't do anything right.

She had said that. He did nothing right. He always messed up. It was always his fault. One year but the wounds seemed so fresh.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he shook his head and felt his chest tighten up at all the pain engulfing his senses right then and there. Wiping his face repeatedly, pushing the emotions away, he looked down, chest puffing out with unshed sobs. He screamed again, the power and strength of it tearing at his throat, leaving it raw and scratchy. Hoarse and utterly ripped apart. His face was red, the lack of air making the vein on his temple more pronounced.

When he finally took the breath, he felt himself break, the sobs suddenly coming.

And without a moment's hesitation, he took the step, throwing himself with full force off the ledge, floating, flying, falling, the hot tears burning his eyes as the intensity of the wind purged them out.

And he plunged straight to his death.

His body slammed against the top of the car, horn honking as the wheels screeched the vehicle to a stop. He was mangled and bloody, eyes lifeless, cold, empty. Not much different to when he was alive.

But it didn't sound like metal crushing on impact. Not in the slightest.

It sounded almost like… a gust of wind that busted the French doors open, banging them hard against the walls, waking him from his slumber.

_He shot up, eyes wide and chest heaving. The shivers rushed through him and he ran his hands over his face and then into his hair, attempting to orient himself. Looking around, he noticed that his sheets were tangled all around his legs. Whipping them off, he scooted to the end of the bed, feet touching the ground and putting his head in his hands. Taking a few slow breaths, he tried his best to calm his nerves. Swallowing thickly, he looked up at the opened windows, the dark curtains billowing in the night breeze. Sighing and letting his hands fall from his face, he just stared off into that never-ending sky. _


End file.
